Green and Gold, Red And Silver
by allwritenow
Summary: Elena isn't born a Gilbert, but destiny finds her and her loved ones all the same. Prophecy children never have it easy, no matter what world they call home. A darker, highly political story of the wizarding world, the war on Voldemort, and what choice really means.
1. Fate's Chosen

_**Fate's Chosen**_

_1950_

"Luce!" Sheila gasped, collapsing against Lucretia's shoulder, tears of laughter stinging her eyes. "I can't believe you just said that."

Her best friend smirked, running an elegant finger around the rim of her glass, the smokey odor of fire whiskey cutting through the miasma of the bar. "Well it's true. I saw them together at school, in that closet on the third floor by Dumbledore's classroom. And I don't care who they married, they are definitely still fucking."

Sheila slid down in the booth, head finding her arms on the table as her shoulders shook. She would never tired of hearing Lucretia Black, classiest pureblood of their generation, casually say fuck. Thank Morgana for Luce, honestly, keeping her sane as the wedding drew ever closer.

Reminded of what started this conversation, Sheila looked up at her best friend with the smirk that had won her Lucretia's friendship back in third year. "Let's seat them all at the same table. Punishment for getting us detention over the hat thing."

Lucretia laughed, loud and genuine as she never got to be when they drank in Diagon Alley. "You're my favorite, Sheila Bennett. I'm going to fight the groom for you, just you wait."

Grinning, Sheila opened her mouth to ask what Ignatius would think about that plan when the world suddenly lurched. The smokey haze in the bar thickened, burning the back of her throat, her ears buzzing like someone had cast a privacy charm. Everything slowed, eons between blinks, and words poured out of her throat in a crashing torrent she could hardly hear over the thundering of her heart.

"_Amaranthine child, you walk the edge of shadow and the brink of war; Speak and death will hear you, child of love, child of blood; Blood spilled, blood paid, blood owed; For certain death must be for the born, and certain no longer is birth for the dead; Flee no more, bleak twin, death's child draws near; Threads rewoven, splinters gathered, what was done will be undone."_

The last word fell from her lips and she went limp, eyes sliding closed as darkness claimed her.

Something struck her, cold and burning, and she gasped, coughing on her own breath, fire whiskey dripping down her cheeks, Lucretia's face above hers, pale and terrified.

"Sheila, Sheila!"

"I'm—I'm fine," Sheila coughed out, flailing with her hand toward the table until she realized she was on the floor. "Help me up."

Luce pulled her up, glaring fiercely at the concerned and nosey onlookers until they'd dispersed back to their own tables or the long bar. "What the fuck was that," she hissed, shoving Sheila into the booth and sliding in next to her, hiding her from the room. "You never told me you were a seer."

"I'm not," Sheila said, too shocked to lie. "I mean. I wasn't? I," she shook herself, head aching like she'd been hit with a stunner and ears still buzzing strangely. "I think I had a great grandmother who was, but I've never, I don't," she stopped, out of words, shaking her head again as Luce stared at her with fierce grey eyes. "Did I really give a prophecy?"

"There's only one way to find out," Lucretia said, voice sharp enough to make Sheila wince before softening into something less accusatory. "Lucky for you I have a cousin in the Department of Mysteries."

Sheila managed a faint smile that wasn't returned, Luce instead leaning close, her face as sober as Sheila had ever seen it. "You can't tell anyone what happened, not even your loving husband-to-be." Her lips twisted. "The Blacks have a long history of using and abusing prophecies and they're not the only ones. A real Seer isn't safe, not from anyone, and what you said..." she trailed off as a shiver ran down Sheila's spine.

"We barely survived Grindelwald, if another war is coming." It was Lucretia's turn to shake her head. "No one can know about this."

Sheila's stomach churned, weight settling on her shoulders at the thought of what another war would bring to their world. Surely it was just stress and fire whiskey, maybe a misfired charm from one of the other patrons giving her some strange fit. They would check at the Ministry and none of it would be real. No war, no blood, no children fighting to survive.

Their future was bright and she was no seer. And if she ignored Lucretia's intent gaze and the throbbing in her skull she could almost believe it.

xxx

_1980_

"Got another one, Fell," Croaker said, lifting his lit wand to show his colleague the glass orb on the shelf of unattributed prophecies. It was the first in decades, only the second this century, and they both peered at the inscription with wary fascination.

_S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D._

_Dark Lord_

_and ? _

"Dumbledore, eh? Wonder what he plans to do about it," Fell muttered, frowning at the mist swirling beneath the glass as Croaker let his eyes drift to the one next to it.

_S.E.B. to L.D.B._

_?_

_and ?_

_(?) and ?_

Not even the correct number of attributions was known for that one. Such a shame that the subjects of prophecies were entirely too subjective—pun definitely intended—to be determined via magical means. They were lucky they caught prophecies at all. It was no coincidence that the Unspeakables studying time were also in charge of the Prophecy room. One of their own, centuries ago, had discovered the means to identify pockets of time out of place, and what was a prophecy but the future reaching out to its past? A bubble of knowledge, shaping the course of history. If they weren't all hogwash, self-fulfilling and entirely mutable.

_That_ was a debate guaranteed to take a few years every time it cropped up in the inter-departmental roundtables.

Croaker shrugged to himself, looking back at Fell. "Whatever he pleases, I'm sure. Lunch? I'm suddenly starving."

Fell gave the orb one last frown, then smirked at him over her shoulder as she led the way out of the room. "You mean you're starving for an argument, you know Rookwood's in today and you want to ruin all our appetites with your musings on decomposition and death curses."

Croaker bared his teeth. "If you have a weak stomach, you shouldn't be an Unspeakable. Now come on, Fell, I brought meatloaf."

Her laughter carried them out of the room, darkness falling on the rows and rows of glass and magic, futures shifting and straining to escape, to shape and carve the humans they foretold.

Those roundtable debates would have been far more contentious if the Unspeakables only knew how much intent the prophecies had, not living, no, but willful, consumed with purpose, _hungry_.

Hungry and restless and eager to bind themselves to the souls unlucky enough to be touched by fate, willing or not.


	2. Chapter One: Blood

_**Chapter One - Blood**_

Elena bit down on the urge to fidget, her small, round face solemn as she sat perfectly still on the heavily embroidered chair. Blaise sat in the chair next to her, his face equally stoic, as ministry gossip, family intrigues, and currents of political manipulations flowed over their heads in deceptively light tones. Far more than tea and biscuits were being shared in the well-lit parlour by Mrs. Malfoy and their mother. The children understood pieces of the conversation, had been absorbing these unofficial lessons since they'd left their nurseries, and the rest would come with time, as important as magic to the pureblood circles they'd been born into.

The conversation lulled, Mrs. Malfoy refilling her and Imelda's cups, and Mr. Malfoy strode into the room, his spine straight and his robes falling with stern grace around him. Draco followed at his heels and a quicksilver smile flashed over his face as he saw Elena and Blaise before he hid once more behind his well-learned regal expression.

"Good afternoon, Imelda, children," Mr. Malfoy greeted, placing a hand on Mrs. Malfoy's shoulder and smiling benignly at all of them. Well, as benignly as Mr. Malfoy was capable of.

"Hello, Lucius," their mother responded with a reserved smile, and Elena and Blaise murmured their own greetings, impatience itching beneath their skin.

"Why don't you show them your new books, Draco; we'll send Dobby for you when it's time for lunch," Mr. Malfoy suggested by way of command, gently pushing Draco toward the other two children.

Elena and Blaise looked to their mother for permission before rising to their feet, following Draco out of the room at a sedate pace that in no way betrayed their inner eagerness.

The moment they were out of sight, and hearing range, of the adults, Draco rounded on them, his silver eyes gleaming with silent laughter. "At last the Zabinis return! I thought your mother would never come back from her latest honeymoon."

Blaise rolled his eyes and Elena sighed. There were times she hadn't thought they'd make it back either. "Husband number five wanted to see the entire wizard world, or at least the 'civilized' portions," she told him. "It was a long trip." Educational and occasionally genuinely fun, but mostly very, very long. In her heart of hearts, Elena was a homebody, and she hoped she wouldn't stray from England or their friends for so long ever again.

Draco wrinkled his nose in clear distaste. "I notice that he's not with you today."

"He decided to join a Tibetan monastery and leave all of his worldly possessions to mother," Blaise said dryly. "When we left, he looked very content meditating in the monastery's garden."

"How...tragic for your mother to be abandoned so callously on her honeymoon," Draco responded with careful diplomacy, earning a soft giggle from Elena and a snort from her brother. "Shall we retire to the library to distract you from your grief at losing another stepfather, even though this one is still breathing?" he continued with earnest sincerity.

Blaise gave him a crude, two fingered salute he'd learned from observing some muggles in London and Elena laughed again, louder this time, the relief of being home settling into her bones. She grabbed both of their hands and tugged them toward the stairs. "Come on, there's a spell I found last time we were here in one of your grand-mère's grimoires I didn't get to try and I want to see if my core is strong enough to power it yet."

"And what does this glorious spell do?" Draco queried as the boys allowed themselves to be pulled along, more than willing to indulge Elena's enthusiasm for magic. They still had more than a year left before they would attend Hogwarts, two in Elena's case, and all were determined to live up to their families' proud heritage.

"It lets you turn certain types of potions into a fine mist that is sprayed from your wand so that you can affect an entire room, or at least those in your immediate vicinity," Elena responded, her dark eyes flashing with fascination. "There are so many possibilities for healing."

Draco laughed and Blaise shook his head with a mock sigh. "Mother will be pleased that one of us took after her. I know she already has you brewing some of the potions she sells."

Elena nodded, then curved her bottom lip into a dejected pout, her cheek dimpling with the tell-tale sign of mischief. "But only the legal ones. She hasn't taught me any recipes for the others yet."

"You're only nine," Draco told her, in the tone one uses to state the blindingly obvious. "She probably wants you to hit your magical maturity before you start risking Azkaban."

Elena gave them a smile tinged with deviltry, revealing the sharpness hidden beneath her sweet exterior. "I'm sure I can talk her into teaching me some of them sooner than that." Her expression darkened. "After all, I'll need something to do while you two are away at school."

The two boys exchanged glances and then tugged on her hands, halting her steps as they both wrapped an arm around her in a threeway hug. "It's only one year," her brother told her consolingly.

"And we'll write every day," Draco promised. "And come home every holiday."

Elena hugged them back and then pulled away, her expression calm although her eyes glittered fiercely. "You'd better. Now come on, I intend to have the highest potion scores since Snape himself."

Both boys laughed as they resumed their trek toward the Manor's library. "Mother won't be pleased unless you place higher than he did—she never liked him," Blaise said with a smirk. "He tried to advise her on a potion once; I'm amazed he's still breathing."

Draco shot him an icy look, ruined by the amusement glinting in his grey eyes. "That's my godfather whose death you're discussing."

Elena grinned at him, having once again banished her frustration over their age difference. "Your godfather is brilliant. And an arrogant, greasy berk. Between his inattention to hygiene and the foolish decision to brandish that arrogance in front of Imelda Zabini, it's amazing that Mother didn't arrange something painfully fatal for him."

"Of course, aside from herself, she does consider him to be one of the world's best potioneers," Blaise interjected. "And Mother certainly isn't willing to teach at Hogwarts. So she may have left him alive for practical reasons."

"Just don't let _him_ hear you mention anything of the sort," Draco said with a smirk. "Or you may be the ones ingesting something painfully fatal."

Elena nodded thoughtfully. "It would be difficult for me to accomplish my goals of total academic and social domination if the Potions Master is trying to kill me. Don't worry, Draco, I shall be more respectful than you."

Draco frowned, looking as if he was unsure if he should feel insulted or reassured, and Blaise chuckled, then pushed them both through the doorway of the library, which they had finally reached. "Come on you two, I'd like to get some reading in before they fetch us for lunch."

"Since when are you so bookish?" Draco asked him as Elena left them behind to find the book she'd mentioned earlier.

Blaise snorted. "I am the least bookish of the three of us, and quite content to stay that way. But I saw a section your father has about the building of Hogwarts and I thought we might find something interesting. Who knows what's been forgotten in a castle that old?"

Draco's eyes lit up and the two boys exchanged a conspiratorial grin as they followed Elena into the winding labyrinth of shelves. Heritage had more than one perk, and all three of them were determined to leave their mark on Hogwarts.

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I see other writers using their end notes to recommend fics or ask questions or give prompts, so I wanted to do the same. This time it's a lore question. In researching timelines for this fic as I tweaked things to suit my AU, I realized that Tom graduated Hogwarts the same year that Grindelwald was defeated.

Do you think Tom ever considered joining Grindelwald? What lessons do you think he took from Grindelwald's rise and fall? We know how much the students at Hogwarts were affected by the two wars with Voldemort, what effects do you think Grindelwald's war had?


	3. Chapter Two: Loyalty

_**Chapter Two - Loyalty**_

Neville huddled on the floor of his Grandmother's closet, still not quite sure how his friend had talked him into this. "She's going to kill me," he moaned, burying his head in his hands, his fear overwhelming the pain in his legs from the pile of extremely pointy shoes he was kneeling on.

Bonnie pulled his hands away from his face, grinning gleefully, a glint in her hazel eyes that Neville had come to fear and respect. "She won't kill you; you're the last heir to the Longbottom line." She paused, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "She could transfigure you into a toad until you're of age to breed though…"

Neville groaned again and thunked his head back against the closet wall, not even wincing as pain shot through his skull. "Thank you so much for those comforting words. I'll be sure to give _your_ grams that punishment idea when we get caught."

"Then we'll just have to not get caught!" his best friend exclaimed, her grin widening to dangerous proportions as she slid the wand she'd 'borrowed' from the Longbottom family wand case out of her sleeve and pulled Neville to his feet. "Now come on, we have work to do!"

Over the next hour, giggles, thuds, and occasional words they really shouldn't know were heard from the depths of the wardrobe. Rory, the Longbottom family house elf, popped into the room once and stared at the closet with an amused shine in his bulbous yellow eyes before popping back out again, the whispered words "More like Frank everyday" lingering in the air for a moment after his departure.

Not long after, two dishevelled children appeared, happy but slightly fearful smiles lighting up their faces as they slipped out of the room and went back to Neville's, doing their best to appear as if they hadn't been anywhere else that afternoon. Not that such an innocent facade saved them when Augusta Longbottom discovered that every single article of clothing she owned had been charmed into the most lurid colours and patterns the two of them could imagine.

The formidable woman appeared in the doorway, her regal face darkened in a frown that made the two of them gulp with apprehension as Neville silently vowed to _never ever_ listen to Bonnie again.

"Clearly I have allowed far too much free time for the two of you," she said sternly. "Mrs. Bennett and I will be hiring two new tutors to add to your lessons, and you will be expected to join us at Ministry functions from here on out." A grim smile crossed Augusta's face. "If the two of you are mature enough to remember such a variety of spells, then you are mature enough to begin your Head of House training in earnest."

Neville and Bonnie swallowed, their mouths gone dry, and exchanged resigned and wary glances. Neville wasn't sure if he should be excited or terrified by this particular punishment. At one point in his life there had been doubt that he would ever be a worthy heir to the House of Longbottom. But at age six, during one of his Grandmother's Christmas parties, Bonnie had convinced him to try out the wand she had pickpocketed from old Mr. Li, and suddenly no one was worried about Neville being a squib.

Fighting a smile, as he knew Gran would take it the wrong way, Neville looked down as if properly cowed. That had been the first (and far from the last) time Bonnie had earned him a punishment, although it had been more than mitigated by his sheer joy at having succeeded in turning Mr. Li's hair a fetching shade of pink.

Magic, long denied him, was finally at his beck and call. He had felt it in the wand, a tingle that crept up his arm and reached his core. Compared to the knowledge that he could live up to his parents' legacy, how could any punishment even register?

And starting Head of House training at age ten, when he used to lie awake sleepless at night, too afraid of the nightmares in which he was outcast into the strange muggle world, was far from an awful prospect. Raising his head, he gave his Gran a reserved smile. "Thank you, Grandmother. I will treat this honour with the respect it deserves and do the Longbottom name proud."

She looked at him with surprise clear on her usually stern face and Bonnie shot him a proud, beaming grin. Neville fought an inappropriate giggle and turned his head so that his Gran wouldn't see his answering smile. Bonnie really was the best, best friend anyone could want.

"Very well," Augusta Longbottom finally said, hints of pleasure and pride in her voice. "You may still spend the night, Bonnie, and we will speak of this again when your Grandmother comes on the morrow."

Bonnie nodded, her eyes bright with irrepressible spirit, and Neville watched her as his Gran swept out of the room, grinning in amusement as his friend burst into laughter the moment the door was closed behind her. "Good job, Nev. With more tutors I bet we'll finally get our own wands!"

Neville nodded. "You just might be right. Of course, if Gran discovers that you stole her husband's wand for this little prank, she'll probably convince your Grams to make you do everything the muggle way until it's time to leave for Hogwarts."

His best friend's eyes narrowed. "Well, unless you're planning on betraying me, she shouldn't ever find out."

Neville just grinned, more than willing to let Bonnie sweat a bit. It was only fair, considering how times she'd gotten Neville into trouble for one of her adventures.

Bonnie's lips twitched and suddenly the wand in question was flourished in front of her. "I'll make sure you never talk, Longbottom!" she cried, and Neville laughed as he tumbled off the bed and raced for the door.

"You'll never catch me, Bennett!" he called over his shoulder, then slammed the door behind him as he ran for the wand case that held his mother and father's wands, grinning recklessly.

Life for the Longbottom heir was better than he'd ever hoped it could be.

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Two for the price of one today.

First, fic recommendation request/writing prompt. While I see lots of fics of Neville and Harry becoming close at Hogwarts, I have yet to see any in which they are raised together. I'd love to see some fics in which Harry went to the Longbottoms after his parents' murder and that either changed their fate, or didn't, resulting in he and Neville being raised by Augusta together.

Second, fic rec. I'm rereading the delightful Hermione Granger's Hogwarts Cranmer for Delinquents on the Run and couldn't recommend it more highly. Look it up on AO3, since FF is such a tit about links. Even if the ship(s) or premise don't sound like your cup of tea, give it a try, it's so worth it.


	4. Chapter Three: Tradition

_**Chapter Three - Tradition**_

Elena patiently held still as her mother fussed over her dress robes, making sure that every line of fabric was perfectly folded or draped to reveal the delicate gold thread embroidered into the rich blue cloth. Her brother's lips twitched with well concealed amusement as their identical dark eyes met over their mother's head, long familiarity with her quirks enabling them to handle the perfectionism, and the motives behind it, with resigned humour.

Finally the woman stood and surveyed her daughter, lips pressed together in a thin line that did nothing to detract from her beauty, and then gave a short nod of satisfaction. "You look very proper, Elena."

Elena bit back a derisive comment at the contrast between her proper outwards appearance and her rarely proper inward thoughts, and gently curtsied instead. "Thank you, Mother."

Imelda Zabini gave her daughter a tight smile before turning to look at her son, gently flicking an invisible speck off the shoulder of his robes before giving another nod of apparent satisfaction.

"Very well, let us go. It wouldn't do to keep the Malfoys waiting," she said briskly, walking toward the large ornate fireplace that graced the far wall. Elena rolled her eyes and linked her arm through her brother's as they turned to follow, eager to see Draco, their favourite of the society children, but not so eager for the razor edged dance of formality that was the Saturnalia celebration.

In ancient Roman times the night was a time of celebration amongst muggles, a holiday free from convention, when even the slaves were honoured. Unsurprisingly, Wizards had different traditions, emphasising the strict hierarchy of pureblood culture and the magical rituals to channel the power of the changing seasons. The rites had fallen into disuse in the centuries since Wizarding culture in Britain had achieved independent status, first from Rome, and then from the Muggles, but the formal celebration, the acknowledgment of the power of blood and ancestry and political ties, had remained, and while they were spared hosting duties by their mother's dislike of remaining married for a full year, the Zabini name demanded their presence at the most prominent gatherings.

Imelda tossed in the floo powder and the flames flared emerald as she called out "Malfoy Manor" in regal tones before vanishing in a flash of light. Elena followed, and then Blaise, and soon the three of them were standing on the silver veined marble floors of the Manor, where the patriarch and heir of the Malfoy line waited to welcome them.

Imelda and Elena curtsied while Blaise bowed, receiving two inclined nods in response.

"Lo, Saturnalia," Lucius greeted smoothly, snapping his fingers to summon a house elf who proffered a tray of drinks: mulsum (honeyed wine) for Imelda, and calda (watered down wine with spices) for the children.

"Lo, Saturnalia," the Zabinis' returned as they accepted their drinks, Imelda retrieving their crimson-wrapped guest gift from inside her robes and handing it to the elf who disappeared with a faint pop.

Draco glanced questioningly up at his father and Lucius nodded with a faint smile, causing all three children to repress entirely improper grins as the Zabini children followed Draco into the hallway and toward the sound of voices and music. Elena slipped her hand into Draco's and quietly asked "What's the turn out?"

"The usual mix of politicians, leeches, lower Houses currying favour, and matchmakers. Elise Braddock, Grace Penkridge, and Cecilia Alton are getting particularly vicious with the betrothal manoeuvering, so I would avoid them if I were you," he murmured, grey eyes glinting with amusement.

Elena laughed, a soft sound as she shot a sly glance at her brother. "What about Lucretia Greengrass? She was eyeing Blaise like a prize steer at Samhain."

Balise quirked an eyebrow, his hand darting out to pinch her side in retaliation. "Well, given the options, at least Daphne and Astoria are in the right age range and our friends. Veronica Smethwyk was giving me cow eyes that night, and she's almost as old as Mother."

They all shuddered, grateful that their parents, while traditional, would never expect them to make such a match. The Zabinis, while Ancient, were not part of the Sacred 28, and the Malfoys were neither Ancient nor Noble, but both families were in the upper echelons of pureblood society in political power. They would be expected to make advantageous matches, but they were far less likely to end up trapped in a horrible marriage than those who were desperate to climb up the social ladder.

Given their families' close ties, it was expected that Draco and Elena would make a match, providing no disputes arose, but Imelda had indicated no plans for Blaise, which made him rather twitchy at these sorts of events.

"Even if Mother arranged for someone less than optimal, you could always follow in her footsteps," Elena teased while Draco hid a grin behind his hand.

Blaise glared at her lazily before returning his gaze to the mingling guests. "No thank you. Mother's lifestyle involves more paperwork than I'm comfortable with. And it would be nice to have someone I was sort of fond of."

"Only sort of?" a new voice asked mockingly, and they all turned to see the Forbes twins staring at them with matching smiles and twinkling eyes.

Elena grinned and let go of Draco's hand so she could hug them both. "Hello Caroline, Hello Lexi, we missed you at Samhain."

Lexi grimaced and Caroline let out a frustrated sigh. "Father was off on another 'business' trip, and Mother was too busy at the DMLE. We tried to convince her we could attend on our own, but you know how she is."

Elena smiled sympathetically. Caroline and Lexi's parents were an unfortunate match, their families too traditional to agree to an amicable parting despite their incompatibility. So their father left them to spend time with his actual love as often as possible and their mother buried herself in her work. It was the sort of situation that she and her friends were determined to keep from repeating in their generation.

"Well at least you're here now," she said out loud, tone light as she linked her arm with Lexi's and smiled at her and Caroline. "You can join us in protecting Blaise from matchmakers."

All three girls turned to look at Blaise with distinctly predatory smiles and he let out a long suffering sigh. "My own family, tormenting me so."

Elena laughed and used her free hand to grab her brother's. "That's what family is for, dear brother, and well you know it."

The others laughed along, eyes meeting in shared if faintly bitter amusement at just how true Elena's words were. Family protected you, defined you, and could easily destroy you. And it often felt as if their families were a heavier weight than most.

But they were a new generation, and could form new traditions. So they would protect each other, define their world for a new future, and destroy anyone who got in their way.

Not all family was blood, after all, no matter what their elders said.

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Mmmk, this time I have a Vampire Diaries prompt for anyone who cares to write it. I would LOVE to see a fanfic in which Elena was raised by her birth parents, spending school years with Isobel (and thus Alaric, eventually) and summers with John. An Elena who knows her mother's research and knows what her father does, or guesses anyways (would he hide it or not?) Would Isobel still seek out Katherine or maybe Katherine and/or Nadia would find her and Elena? Would Elijah or Klaus stumble across her sooner or later than in canon? There's just so much interesting potential there.


	5. Chapter Four: Lessons

**_Chapter Four - Lessons_**

"Have you ever noticed how literal wizard names can be?" Bonnie asked curiously as she stared down at the book their tutor for History and Wizarding culture had assigned. "I mean really, Emeric the Evil? Couldn't they come up with something more creative than that?"

"Like what?" Neville asked her, looking up from his book with a faint smile. "Emeric the Godawful Wizard who was hard to kill?"

Bonnie stuck her tongue out at her best friend and shook her head. "No, that's just awkward. They could have stuck with the alliterative trend. What about Emeric the Eviscerator? Or Emeric the Emulsifier?"

"Emeric the Emulsifier?" Neville asked, raising one of his eyebrows and reminding Bonnie just a little bit of Augusta Longbottom. "Do you even know what that means?"

"Something to do with potions," Bonnie said, waving her hand dismissively. "That's not really the point. The point is that names like Emeric the Evil and Uric the Oddball make our history sound like children's stories."

Neville shrugged. "Uric was an oddball, he wore a jellyfish for a hat, and Emeric was evil; their names make it easier to remember who they were and what they did."

Bonnie huffed. "It's still boring," she muttered.

Studying her own family history had been far more interesting, at least what Grams had let her read about so far. The Bennetts were one of the few entirely matriarchal lines in Britain, the name passing down from mother to children with no end for centuries, regardless of who the father was. They were also one of the Ancient and Noble families of the wizarding world, but their matriarchal legacy kept them at odds with the families who valued blood purity above all else. Idiots, the lot of them, given how magically powerful Bennett women were known to be, thanks her Grams believed, to their refusal to only marry other purebloods instead of as they willed, pureblood or not, and even occasionally muggles.

Returning her attention to her best friend, she narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you want to be remembered as Neville the plant boy?"

Neville grinned at her. "Better than being remembered as Bonnie the most stubborn girl in the world." Bonnie rolled her eyes and Neville laughed. "Besides, muggles aren't any better. Alexander the Great, Ivan the Terrible."

"You're daring to compare muggle culture to wizarding culture!" Bonnie said with a fake gasp, clutching at her chest dramatically. "Oh the shame from a pureblood heir, your Grandmother will never recover from the stain of your opinions on the Longbottom name."

Neville laughed and pushed at Bonnie's chair with his feet, tipping her onto the floor a clatter. "Your Grams is the one giving us muggle culture lessons, you twit."

Bonnie righted her chair and plopped herself back into it, giving a haughty sniff, pretending to be one of those idiots who refused to acknowledge any of the non-magical folk in their own family trees. "As a member of Hogwarts Board of Governors and an important member of International Wizarding relations for our government, she has reason to be aware of muggles and their world."

Her best friend returned her haughty sniff with an even haughtier one and an upturned nose. "And as heir to the Longbottom fortune, titles, and positions, I also have reason to be aware of the muggles and their world. As I might add, do you."

The two of them indulged in a superiority competition for the next minute before dissolving into giggles, neither able to maintain the air of condescension that some of the other pureblood heirs were so adept at.

Their current tutor chose that moment to return, Sheila Bennett regarding her granddaughter and her best friend with evident amusement before clearing her throat, causing them both to snap to attention. "I see the two of you are done with your assignments, if you have begun to entertain yourselves, and must be ready for my lesson to start."

Bonnie and Neville exchanged a quick glance before turning equally charming grins on the older woman. "Not quite, Grams, we could use a little more time to finish our scrolls."

"We were, distracted, by some of the details in the lives of some of those figures," Neville added diplomatically.

Sheila chuckled. "I understand. There are some very interesting characters in our history, although I do hope you're also paying attention to the lessons that apply to the wizarding world as it stands today."

Neville frowned thoughtfully, staring down at his half finished scroll. "Mostly I've been noticing how many families have been lost, and how few new ones have been created. Given the number of names that have died out, you would think the Wizengamot would loosen the restrictions for the creation of new Houses."

Bonnie nodded her agreement. "There are quite a few families that have maintained at least three generations of magical folk that could help fill the empty seats if they were allowed to petition for them."

Sheila gave them an approving smile. "Very good, children. I'm glad to see the two of you using your intelligence for something other than mischief." Both of them flushed and Sheila chuckled again, then sighed. "Unfortunately, like many other things, the blame can partially be laid at the feet of You Know Who. Before he began his campaign of terror, there had been progress made toward legislation like you are suggesting, but the war heightened the tensions and disparity in belief between the various factions in our world, and we have not yet recovered."

Arching an eyebrow, she carefully met their gazes. "However, perhaps with your generation, we can once again create alliances to rebuild our culture and progress our world."

Bonnie and Neville exchanged serious glances, their earlier amusement forgotten as they both felt the weight of their heritage pressing down on their shoulders. "We'll do our best, Grams," Bonnie said, turning back toward the older woman, and Neville nodded his agreement.

One day, both silently promised, the evil of You-Know-Who and his followers, the evil that had stolen their parents from them, would be washed from their world.

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Sorry for the long delay! I have the next ten or so chapters written but life's been hectic. No note this time, just a question. What are your favorite Vampire Diaries crossover fics?


	6. Chapter Five: Rapprochement

_**Chapter Five - Rapprochement**_

Elena tugged on Draco's arm and pulled him and her brother away from where Lucius was politicking, sensing the rising anger and disgust in her best friend. Draco loved and respected his father, she knew it and so did he, but he hated his father's continuing support of the beliefs of a man who had done his best to destroy their world and who had, in many ways, succeeded. All three of the children were proud of their heritage, of their generations of magical legacy, and were not ashamed of the many grey areas their families pursued as they continued that legacy in the present. But that didn't mean they had to share their parents' beliefs, or their plans for the world they would inherit.

British magical society had a rich culture, but death, war, and infighting had cost them many families and too much knowledge, all while diminishing their place in international magical society. If the Dark Lord had had his way, none of that culture would have survived, no matter how much he and his followers pretended that they were trying to restore and protect the grandeur of the magical world. Things would have to change if Magical Britain was ever to rise to prominence again.

"Someday you will dictate the policies of Malfoy House, just as Blaise will do for the Zabinis, and then you can speak your mind," she murmured as she drew the two boys into a small alcove beside one of the tables of hors d'oeuvres. Draco's grey eyes still glinted with ice, but he nodded, while Blaise shot her an amused smile. "And what will you be doing, dear sister, while I'm running our House?"

She tossed her hair and affected an arrogant smile. "Why running St. Mungo's of course, and revolutionizing magical medicine."

"So ambitious," another voice declared quietly as the Greengrass sisters approached them, Tori's green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I do hope you leave some positions for the rest of us."

Elena laughed, a sparkling sound that drew amused, tolerant, and disdainful glances from the few adults within hearing range. "But of course, my dear Astoria, we could never conquer the wizarding world without our friends."

"Good," Tori stated, flashing a quick grin while her older, shyer sister, smiled more reservedly at them. "Now come mingle with us, we need reinforcements before braving the rest of the heirs."

Elena tilted her head to survey the room, noting the large turnout which included, by reputation in some cases and fact in others, dark, light, and grey families. There were many children near their age, heirs and their siblings, as well as older children, born during the earlier years of the war. In her brief survey she'd noticed the Nott, Diggory, Bones, Pucey, Bell, and Lockwood heirs, and she was sure there were others. Some of those would be friendly due to family ties, some would be unfriendly for the same reasons, and others would be largely neutral, either of their own accord or as a reflection of their parents' political stance.

"Well, shall we enter the fray?" she asked jauntily, slipping her arm through Draco's and giving the other three a bright smile that would fool anyone but them. They laughed as Blaise offered an arm to both Greengrass sisters, and they followed her into the milling crowd.

xxx

Bonnie fiercely resisted the urge to roll her eyes as yet another stuffy old politician completely ignored what she and Neville said to go on about the importance of tradition and the 'preservation' of their society before wandering away for an 'adult' conversation.

Tradition was fascinating and aspects of it were certainly worth preserving, but the preservation these old grumps referred to was merely their desire to maintain the status quo, their greedy grasp on their power blinding them to the decline of their whole world.

"Stop scowling, there are dangerous and pretty girls approaching," Neville murmured.

Bonnie turned her head and raised an eyebrow in a manner entirely reminiscent of her Grams. "Am I not a dangerous and pretty girl, Neville?"

Neville shot her a stern glance. "Your Grams would hex someone who suggested an arranged marriage for you. My Gran, on the other hand, discusses her own betrothal at age five quite fondly. My father was the only Longbottom who didn't have a marriage arranged for him before the age of fourteen, and I live in constant dread of the moment that Gran tells me she's already found a wife for me."

Bonnie giggled and finally turned to look at the girls who had Neville so twitchy, softly whistling when she saw that they were not alone, and that all five children they were about to engage in conversation were from dark or grey families. "I don't think you have to worry about your Gran choosing one of them," she muttered to Neville, then assumed a polite smile and curtsied as Neville bowed to the group.

Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Elena Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Astoria Greengrass all returned the gestures, equally formal smiles on their faces.

"Greetings," Bonnie said, accepting the duty of starting the conversation by virtue of being the oldest of the heirs present. "I hope you are all enjoying your evenings."

"How could we not enjoy the delightful conversation of such brilliant political minds all gathered in one place?" Blaise asked in a perfectly genuine tone, belied by the gleam of something darker in his eyes.

Bonnie grinned, an answering sharpness slipping into her tone. "I couldn't have put it better myself, Zabini. With such wisdom as is found in this room, we can only hope to learn from their example."

Elena Zabini snorted and Neville laughed, the other children grinning at them. Bonnie tried not to wonder why these children who should hate them and everything they stood for seemed quite friendly and happy to chat. Time, and Hogwarts, would show if it was genuine or not.

Unfortunately, before any of them could speak again and give her an idea if this was the start of something good, Minister Fudge, closely followed by Lucius Malfoy, reached the seven of them on their circle of the room and all sense of sudden comradery died a quick and painful death.

"Why, if it isn't the best and brightest of our youth," Fudge exclaiming, beaming at all of them with the empty-headed ignorance of a dazed garden gnome, despite the quite capable, if cowardly, political mind that lurked inside his thick head.

"Yes, indeed," Lucius agreed smoothly, the faintest hint of a sneer on his face as his eyes drifted across Neville and Bonnie, whose Grams was one of Lucius' staunchest opponents on the Hogwarts Board of Governors.

Bonnie resisted the urge to roll her eyes in his face and felt only gratitude when Neville wrapped a hand around her forearm and smile that perfect pureblood smile of his at the two older men. "Thank you, Minister, but I'm afraid Bonnie and I have to go. My grandmother wants to introduce us to Mr. Bagman." Neville blushed and Bonnie idly wondered just when her friend had surpassed her in the lying department. "Quidditch, you know."

"Of course, of course," Fudge boomed with good humour, waving them away. "Musn't keep Augusta waiting, she doesn't stand for that sort of nonsense."

Bonnie and Neville nodded their agreement before bowing and slipping away into the crowd, Bonnie with the distinct impression that the other children desperately wished they could follow. "Since when do you care about Quidditch?" she asked Neville as they made their way across the room to safer territory.

Neville rolled his eyes. "As if, now come on, there's a supplier of North American magical plants here and your Grams said I could meet him."

Bonnie laughed and allowed herself to be tugged along. That sounded a lot more like the Neville she knew.

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If you could be a vampire from any of the many vampire franchises, what type would you want to be?


	7. Chapter Six: First Impressions

**_Chapter Six - First Impressions_**

Harry stole a glance at the other fitting pedestal as he waited for Madame Malkin to return with his robes, desperately curious about the three children who seemed so at home in the wizarding world, and with each other.

An elegant blond boy with very pale skin stood on the pedestal, radiating the kind of high class aura that his Aunt Petunia aspired to, but failed miserably at achieving. A similarly posh, dark-haired boy with rich brown skin leaned against the mirror in front of the other boy, a friendly smirk curving his lips. The third child captured most of Harry's attention. She was perched on a cushioned stool, her legs curled beneath her with a clear disregard for the propriety displayed by her companions, and her dark eyes were dancing merrily. Something about her seemed familiar, even though he was sure he'd never seen her before.

"I still can't believe he tried to buy you a crup," the girl murmured, gaze locked on the dark-haired boy who looked as though he might be her sibling, despite her lighter, more golden skin tone. "Mother's taste is worsening over the years."

"Well, 'it is always useful to have a way of knowing when those dirty muggles are about,'" he drawled with vicious sarcasm.

Harry frowned, wondering what a crup was and what it had to do with muggles.

"Can you imagine Dumbledore's reaction if you'd brought a crup to Hogwarts?" the blond asked, amusement glinting in his grey eyes.

The girl laughed softly and a slow grin stole across the other boy's face. "It might have been worth it to accept the blasted thing, just to see the resulting Daily Prophet article."

Nodding, the girl pursed her lips. "Mother does have some kind of dirt on the editor,"

"Mother has dirt on everyone," her brother interjected dryly, and the girl waved a dismissive hand at him as she continued speaking.

"So she would ensure that the story would represent our family in a favorable light. Not that it would hurt the old manipulator's reputation in the long run, but it would have been fun while it lasted."

Twisting his fingers together, Harry turned away from the three children and stared at himself in the mirror. Were they the children of the dark wizards Hagrid had described? The way they talked about Dumbledore, who Hagrid clearly revered, sounded awful.

His reflection blinked back at him, green eyes wide behind his battered glasses and he shook his head. He didn't know anything, not really. About anything in this world, including Dumbledore, thanks to the Dursleys and whoever had decided he should live with them. And he wasn't going to be like them, he wasn't going to see or hear one thing he didn't like about a person and decide that they were bad or a freak or trash. Hagrid had been great, had changed his whole life, but that didn't mean he should be Harry's only source of knowledge about the wizarding world.

Tilting his head back toward the other three children, he saw that their conversation had shifted into more serious territory. All three of them wore solemn expressions, and their voices had a lower pitch that made it harder to eavesdrop on. Not impossible though, he thought a little guiltily, and strained to hear.

"I hate that I can't go with you," the girl said in a quiet voice that was somehow angry and sad. "This year's going to be so important, for everyone, and you're going to be so far away."

The blond boy stepped off the pedestal, carelessly shedding pins, and both boys gathered her into a hug that made Harry sigh with silent longing over the easy display of affection. He hadn't been hugged since he was six, and the old school nurse had comforted him after Dudley gave him a bloody nose.

"We'll be careful," the blond promised, drawing Harry's attention again. "Of _everyone_."

"And we'll write everyday. I'll need your help with Snape's homework after all," her brother said, a teasing tone in his words that made the girl smile tremulously.

"Good. And if you see Harry…" she trailed off and bit her lip, looking up at the other in mute appeal as Harry hid his surprise. Were they talking about him? Why?

"We know. We will," the blond said, further inflaming Harry's curiousity as the three children hugged each other again before pulling away. The girl looked up as the boys returned to their positions and caught him watching. She frowned for a moment, but then her eyes widened in shocked recognition and he flushed.

Before she, or he, could say anything, Madame Malkin came bustling back into the room just as Hagrid tapped on the window. Moments later he was whisked out of the shop with his packages, catching one more glimpse of the three children over his shoulder, now all staring at him, before being distracted by the sight of his beautiful new owl.

Later, when he was in the smallest bedroom on Privet Drive, staring at his pile of school books and reverently holding his wand, he remembered the three children and wondered once again what they'd been talking about and what it had to do with him. He hoped it wasn't bad. He didn't want to find another Dudley in his new school, and he really really wanted to actually have friends.

Falling back on his lone and lumpy pillow, he stared at the ceiling and allowed himself to hope. Maybe this year, this new magical year, really would be different.


	8. Chapter Seven: Future Fears

Elena stared out the window into her mother's potion garden, the diary in her lap set aside for the moment and head still aching from the intense dreams that had plagued her the past few days. Three weeks. That was all she had left before her brother and her best friend would be leaving her. Off to Hogwarts for school, and, more importantly, for forming most of the connections that would influence the rest of their lives.

She was excited for them, sad for herself, and most of all she was anxious, for all of them. Unlike the rest of the magical world, she and her friends were well aware that the threat of the Dark Lord, or one of his ambitious followers, could rise again. Not that they knew how, or when, even if their parents did. But the threat of war was hardly the only danger. The fractures in their world had only worsened since his fall. Differences now consumed every aspect of their lives, dividing families and old allies until it was easier to point out foe than friend.

Dumbledore, for all his preaching of unity, did nothing to remedy those fractures, many of which were worsened by Hogwarts. Slytherin hadn't always been the house of dark wizards and death eaters, and Gryffindor hadn't always been the house of the brash, bold, and bullies. Nor had those Houses, or the other two, defined your friends and enemies.

They were meant to be a family, a home away from home, but they weren't supposed to hate and dismiss each other, and once upon a time friendship between them, all of them, had been encouraged. Competition might help them do better in lessons, but hating each other made the rest of school miserable. For all its vaunted reputation, Hogwarts education was lacking and had been for a while. If it wasn't for other considerations, her mother might have sent Elena and Blaise somewhere else for schooling.

They needed a regime change. New leadership. They had all been raised with the knowledge of just how much power Hogwarts and what it taught held for their society, something Dumbledore took full advantage of. But she was ten, and her brother was eleven, and for all their connections and intelligence and advantages from their place in society, there was nothing they could do to change the school now. All she could do was worry.

Worry for her brother, for Draco, for Daphne. Worry for Harry. Harry was the lynchpin for so many things and he had looked so small and lost in Madame Malkin's. She bit her lip, anger and concern tangling in her gut. No one knew what Dumbledore had done with the boy-who-lived after the Dark Lord's defeat, but given the complete and utter lack of viable evidence regarding his existence, her family put the most stock in the rumours that he'd been hidden in the muggle world. What better way to protect him from death eaters seeking revenge after all?

But Harry, in the one brief glimpse she'd had, had not looked like someone raised happy and safe, and the clothes he had put on after Madame Malkin was done with him were certainly not the clothes of someone who was well cared for. Unless wearing entirely too large, threadbare, dingy grey clothing was some sort of strange muggle fashion statement.

It was possible, she knew nothing about the muggle world, a blind spot she should fix. But even if the clothes were a fashion statement, could poorly repaired and scratched glasses also be a choice instead of the result of poverty or neglect? She didn't think so.

Sudden invisible fingers tickled her sides and she jerked, falling off the window seat with a thump. "Merlin's dirty beard," she cursed, glaring up through her curtain of hair at her brother and best friend. "I'll get you both for that."

Draco bent down and pulled her to her feet, silver eyes dancing with amusement. "I'm sure you will, my darling Elena, I'm sure you will. Now, will you please stop brooding and join us for lunch. I'm starving."

She huffed, but allowed him to maintain his hold on her hand as he tugged her down the hallway, following Blaise whose shoulders were still shaking in silent amusement. They were lucky she loved them with the fire of a thousand suns, or she would be slipping potions in their food that would make their first week at school _very_ interesting.


	9. Chapter Eight: Barriers and Bonding

"Muggle nobility isn't anything like our nobility," a girl's voice stated in a low but fierce tone, making Harry's head snap around as he heard a word that only a witch would say. "Theirs is based on property ownership and favours from the crown, ours has to do with the families that established wizarding Britain before it gained independence from Rome."

"I understand that," a boy replied in a calm voice. "But both have similar responsibilities when it comes to politics and society, or at least used to, and both are concerned with heritage and tradition. And being snobs who think they're better than everyone. I think those similarities are interesting."

The girl who had spoken first, small with warm brown skin and soft waves of dark brown hair, laughed suddenly, her earlier intensity vanishing as if it had never been there. "Well if we manage to get rid of that worthless ghost, I'm sure it would make an excellent OWL project for History of Magic."

"I could always take Muggle studies," the boy mused, tugging on a lock of his dirty blond hair with a pale hand.

Harry took a deep breath and approached them, pulling his trunk behind him and ignoring Hedwig's quietly irritated hoots. "Um, hullo."

The other children turned to look at him, both smiling. "Hullo," the girl greeted. "Another first year?"

Harry nodded and smiled back hesitantly, awkwardly shifting his feet. "I can't find the platform that's listed on the ticket I was given. Do you know where I'm supposed to go?"

"Of course we can help," the blond boy said with a wider smile while the girl's eyes lit up with fascination.

"Ooooh, are you a muggle born?"

Harry shook his head, his cheeks heating up with embarrassment. "No. My parents were both wizards, but I live with my mum's family and they're muggles." Horrible, awful muggles, but he didn't really feel like explaining that bit.

The girl grinned and stuck out her hand. "There's so much you can tell us! I'm Bonnie Bennett, by the way, and this is Neville Longbottom."

Harry shook her hand, hoping they wouldn't react like the people in the Leaky Cauldron. "Nice to meet you, I'm Harry Potter."

Momentary shock crossed their faces, but they controlled their reactions almost immediately, much faster than any children he'd known to be capable of besides himself, and a wave of gratitude washed over Harry.

"How much do you know about the magical world then?" Neville asked, his head tilting to the side in curiousity.

Harry shrugged, his face still warm. "Um, not much," he muttered. "I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid gave me my letter."

This seemed to surprise them more than his identity had and he watched as they exchanged a significant glance he couldn't decipher. "Well," Bonnie said with a grin after they'd turned back toward him. "We'll just have to get you up to speed then, won't we?"

Harry nodded cautiously, his stomach starting to unclench.

"First things first, let's get back to the train. I think Gran will come hunting for us if we take too much longer and no one wants that to happen," Neville said solemnly, earning a shudder from Bonnie and a confused look from Harry.

"She's a very scary woman," Bonnie said with the air of someone confiding a great secret. "I'm pretty sure that the toad she gave Nev for his birthday used to be a Ministry official who annoyed her."

Neville laughed and Harry smiled, more of his tension seeping away. Perhaps in this new, Dursley free world, he really could have those mysterious things called friends.

Before anyone could say anything else, more voices caught Harry's attention and he turned as Bonnie's face lit up with pleased recognition. "Hullo, Aunt Minerva, what are you doing here?"

A rather severe looking woman with her greying hair pulled into a bun favoured Bonnie with a small smile and gestured to a family—mother, father, and a daughter about their age—who were standing behind her. "I'm assisting our new muggleborns with gaining entry to the platform." She paused and gave Bonnie a stern look. "And don't forget, Bonnie, that once you reach Hogwarts, you are to refer to me as Professor McGonagall."

"Of course, Aunt Minnie," Bonnie replied cheekily, earning a hasting suppressed laugh from Neville and a resigned sigh from the older woman, although Harry could detect an affectionate twinkle in her eyes. The Professor turned to her head to look at Bonnie's companions and Harry saw shock and pleasure as her eyes came to rest on him. "Blessed Morgana, if it isn't Harry. I haven't seen you in ten years and now here you are, looking so much like both of your parents," she said warmly.

"Really?" Harry couldn't stop himself from blurting out, then flushed and stared down at his feet, shame and frustration pushing words out of his mouth before he could catch them. "Sorry, it's just that I've never seen a picture of them."

The shock and concern from those around him was palpable and when he dared to glance up again, he saw the Professor staring at him with fire in her eyes and tight, white lines around her mouth.

"I knew those Dursleys were the worst sort of muggle, but-" she abruptly stopped herself and refocused on Harry, giving him another warm smile. "Once you reach Hogwarts, and have settled in, I'll be happy to share the few pictures I have of them."

Harry nodded, his throat too tight to offer gratitude, and she granted him some space, turning back to the family standing behind her. "Now, why don't we get the children onto the train. If you'll say your goodbyes, Hermione, unfortunately your parents can't come through the barrier."

The girl, who had radiated excitement and curiousity until that moment, looked disheartened, and turned to embrace both her parents, murmuring tearful goodbyes that left Harry feeling a complicated tangle of envy and relief that he had nothing to dampen the excitement of leaving.

Finally she pulled herself away from them and looked expectantly at the Professor who gave a reserved smile to all four children. "All right, hold your things close and walk through the barrier. Bonnie, why don't you go first."

Bonnie nodded with another grin and winked at Neville and Harry before striding confidently forward. Harry watched with disbelief as she disappeared through the bricks and couldn't help a smile as Hermione let out a soft, excited squeal. "Oh! That's so fascinating! A selectively permeable barrier! I wonder how they keep non-magical people from noticing," she muttered in an intensely curious tone, earning another smile from the Professor.

"Through the careful layering of notice-me-not and muggle-repelling wards, Miss Granger," the Professor stated. "Now why don't you go next."

Hermione nodded with clear enthusiasm and waved goodbye to her parents before nearly jogging through the brick wall, her eyes sparkling with joy.

"All right, Harry, why don't you go next, and then Neville can follow you."

Harry did his best to fight down the butterflies in his stomach and met the Professor's gaze with as confident a smile as he could manage, tightening his grip on his trunk and on Hedwig's cage. Bracing himself, he walked forward at a quick trot, taking a deep breath just before impact and releasing it in a shocked gasp as the brick wall vanished around him, revealing Platform Nine and Three Quarters in all its glory.

Magic was awesome.


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